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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28821777">Mrs. Whitlock</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/'>Anonymous</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Twilight Series - All Media Types, Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Based on the book Rebecca, F/M, Gothic, Haunted Houses, Haunting, Human/Vampire Relationship, Making it a tad different though, Murder, Murder Mystery, No Beta We Die as Men, There might be smut; I'll tag it properly in due time, Vampires</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 12:00:11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,174</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28821777</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>While working as the companion to a rich American woman on holiday in Monte Carlo, Miss Brandon, a naive young woman in her early 20s, becomes acquainted with a wealthy widower, Mr. Jasper Whitlock. With his courtship they end up falling in love, and she impetuously marries Jasper. After the wedding and honeymoon, Alice accompanies him to his mansion in Cornwall, the beautiful estate Manderley, only to discover that he and his household are haunted by the memory of his late first wife, Maria.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Alice Cullen/Jasper Hale</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Anonymous</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Mrs. Whitlock</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Let me begin by introducing myself! I'm a lover of romances and a huge fan of Twilight. You may have noticed this work is being posted under anonymous. It is simply because I adore the nature of secrecy in the novel this work is being based on. Since I had to give Mrs. de Winters (who is Alice here but in the book has no name) a name, I thought I would create the mystery by not telling who I am. If you do find out, let's see your best guesses!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>She dreamt of Manderley that night again. It was engulfed in flames like the time she had last seen it. Smoke invaded her lungs while Alice panted at the spectacle of fire washing over every surface that dated back to three-hundred years ago. Alice was out of breath and shifted in her sleep, gasping until her eyes sparkled open. She was not in Manderley.</p><p> </p><p>The room was dainty. The bed build was tall and large, Victorian, with a cushion that sunk its sleepers into comfort. The beddings, involved around her legs when Alice perched up, were the most delicate cotton. It didn't serve any consolation to the sweaty and scared woman, exhausted with the relentless haunting of the dead.</p><p> </p><p>Alice shoved aside the sheer veil that concealed the sides of the bed, enveloping a cream silk robe around her nude form. She helped herself a glass of liquor even though it was only past nine in the morning. Usually, she wouldn't sleep in; there was much to be traveled and explored on their voyages.</p><p> </p><p>Her eyes darted over her shoulder, back to the bed where the dormant man laid—his bare buttocks the most gracious sight. Alice smirked over the glass, sipping on it for a minute as she recollected the very first moment she'd laid eyes on him.</p><p> </p><p>It was in Monte Carlo three years ago...</p><p> </p><p>Alice worked for Mrs. Cullen, an American woman like herself—although much older—whose husband had passed not too long before. She was the woman's lady companion for the trip, which essentially qualified to assist her with scheduling, sit her to places, and organize her life. It was no intricate assignment, just largely flat.</p><p> </p><p>Often were the times Alice found herself sitting by the porch to sketch Monaco's sights. Alice had just turned twenty years old, she hadn't seen any of the world, but so easily driven to pretty things. Monaco was unlike any scene she had seen in the States. Biloxi, Mississippi, was not ever a breathtaking show, but Monte Carlo had surpassed her expectations.</p><p> </p><p>The point of traveling with Esme was to see the world or as much of it as time allowed. Mrs. Cullen didn't demand that much attention, but she was quite particular about her agenda, and Alice could tell she relished not being alone. For a small-town girl like herself, with a payment and the prospect to travel, it was much more than she ever imagined to accomplish.</p><p> </p><p>"Will you get us the table for lunch, Miss Brandon?" Esme requested in her polite timbre, eyes never springing up from her book. As kind as Mrs. Cullen was, there was distance in her voice, like she bore immense grief.</p><p> </p><p>"Right away, Mrs. Cullen." Alice stood up pronto, closing her sketchbook and pressing it against her chest as she rushed out the room.</p><p> </p><p>Downstairs in the lunch restaurant, she spoke to the <em>maître </em>in French, one of the many languages Alice knew to talk—always buried in books, it was no surprise she was, in fact, a very well educated woman.</p><p> </p><p>Mrs. Cullen joined her not too long after that, dressed refinedly as the high standards of the place intended she did. It wasn't hard to tell Alice was, in fact, her staff, with modest cuts and the short black hair that was cut to point in all directions, unlike the long brushed curls that outlined Esme's face and fit her right to standard.</p><p> </p><p>"Oh, my," Esme gasped halfway through her lunch. Alice glanced up in trepidation.</p><p> </p><p>"Is everything all right, madam?" she inquired briskly.</p><p> </p><p>"Mr. Whitlock just walked in. I had no idea he was in the hotel," Esme explained and that made Alice look further up in the direction Mrs. Cullen was gaping at.</p><p> </p><p>A towering man stood by the <em>maître</em>, his imposing presence almost as unexpected as his deep golden eyes. His appearance was intense; a squared face, no beard, the blonde curls—much longer than the usual for a man of society—cascading around his cheeks down to his jawline. Alice had never seen a more handsome man in her entire life.</p><p> </p><p>"The poor man lost his wife not even over a year ago. It's shocking to see him here," Esme said, ignorant to Alice starstruck by him. "She was <em>absolutely </em>exceptional, drew eyes wherever she went. Oh, they were a beautiful couple! He was thoroughly in love with her."</p><p> </p><p>Alice's eyes cast back to Esme as she attempted to contain the blush on her cheeks. Mr. Whitlock looked much older than she was and there was no point in luxuriating in an appeal over a man of much higher status than herself.</p><p> </p><p>"Must be truly heartbreaking," Alice commented. Esme seemed lost in her own thoughts and feelings for a minute before she agreed.</p><p> </p><p>"I must give him my sentiments." She was up in a beat and Alice opened her mouth to object, or try and keep up, but stood frozen at the table while Mrs. Cullen made her way to the charming man.</p><p> </p><p>She observed them chat briefly, and when the two pair of eyes contemplated her lonesome at the table, Alice couldn't hold the stare, glancing down at the sketch. Her fingers ached to draw him, instead of some trivial scenery, because she craved to keep that memory of his face, hold it dearly and never forget it.</p><p> </p><p>"Alice," Esme summoned. When Alice gazed up again, the two stood right by the table.</p><p> </p><p>She gulped, blushing like a fool.</p><p> </p><p>"This is Mr. Whitlock." Esme introduced them as Alice rose up instantly, stretching an arm.</p><p> </p><p>He took it and before she could shake it, he brought her hand to his lips in the most gentleman way.</p><p> </p><p>"This is my lady companion, Miss Brandon."</p><p> </p><p>"Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Brandon." His voice had the deepest of tones, the English accent taking Alice and her little southern self by surprise.</p><p> </p><p>"The pleasure is mine, Mr. Whitlock," she told him promptly, eyes evading his piercing gaze.</p><p> </p><p>When their hands withdrew, her heart was still racing against her chest.</p><p> </p><p>"Are you certain you don't wish to sit with us, Mr. Whitlock?" Esme urged, making Alice's eyes grow.</p><p> </p><p>"I must decline, Mrs. Cullen. I'm only here briefly. I have some appointments to attend to after lunch. May I offer instead that you ladies accompany me over dinner?" He looked at Alice briefly, and her blush only intensified; even Esme was able to notice it.</p><p> </p><p>"I'm afraid I have made plans, Mr. Whitlock, but that is so kind of you." Esme beamed; he bowed respectfully; Alice lamented inaudibly.</p><p> </p><p>"Of course, Mrs. Cullen. Another time then." He briefly greeted her and then Alice, who stood silent like a timid bird. "It was a delight to meet you, Miss Brandon. Enjoy your lunch."</p><p> </p><p>"Likewise, sir," Alice said fast, staring up at him in astonishment.</p><p> </p><p>He was gone before Alice could object or say anything further. That afternoon she found herself drawing not the Monaco spectacles but the silhouette of a man she longed not to forget.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Did you enjoy the read? Would you like to see more? I would love to hear your thoughts!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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